


The Feral Soldier

by LaFernweh



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: AU, Angst, Body Dysphoria, Cat Ears, Cuddling, Fluff, Kitty!Bucky, M/M, Multi, Multi Chapter, Post CATWS, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Purring, SO MUCH FLUFF, Self Harm, jungle cats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3567086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaFernweh/pseuds/LaFernweh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had created the ultimate predator. A hybrid with human intelligence and the raw instinct of a jungle cat. A hunter who had been trained to kill or be killed on command. </p><p>Now with HYDRA being slowly dismantled piece by piece, Bucky must learn how to live in this new reality where he is both man and beast, both sides constantly at war with each other in a fight for dominance that neither can win. </p><p>Kitty!Bucky/Steve AU.<br/>Tags will be updated by chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dysphoria

It's almost midday when Bucky finds himself sitting in his boxers alone on the floor of his room. The door is cracked open just enough for Steve to be able to look in as he paces across the broad expanse of the living room cellphone in hand. The mobile is held closer to his mouth in an attempt to keep his voice hushed while he informs Nat that it probably isn’t a good time to stop by. 

 

“Bucks not having a good day.” he murmurs quietly “He’s just not himself right now.”

 

And how  true  the statement is.

 

If Bucky were any other person he wouldn’t be able to hear it or the calm reply from Natasha telling Steve that  “It’s okay. He just needs time.”

 

But Bucky isn’t any other person.

 

Sometimes he can’t even see himself as a person.

 

Not anymore.

 

He wishes he could be. Maybe then he’d feel some form of normalcy. Maybe just a little bit  average. 

 

Human.

 

Not whatever he was now.

 

Some freak hybrid pulled apart and recreated in a lab by men who wanted nothing more than a weapon. A  predator .

 

The thought makes Bucky’s gaze lift back up to the reflection staring back at him through the full length mirror that sits in the corner. Hes close enough, that he can reach out and touch it's smooth surface if he wanted to. But he doesn’t. That would make a sad reality sink in much too quickly. He’s not ready. Doesn’t know if he’ll ever be. Because now he’s not just  Bucky Barnes or  The Feral Soldier.  He’s both. And both of those things don’t fit together. Can’t figure out how to coexist in one body.

 

Bucky watches cat like pupils dilate when Steve walks past the door. The blonde mans larger frame blocks the light coming in for just a second. 

 

It wasn’t natural.

 

Neither was the large set of tiger like ears now sitting atop Bucky’s head or the long thick tail lying limply on the floor, curling around him just slightly. Bucky opens his mouth to see the impressive fangs now located where his canines once were and bristles slightly in anger.

 

They shouldn’t be there. He shouldn’t want to pounce things that moved or sink his claws into the neck of any man belligerent enough to give Steve so much as a sideways glance. He shouldn’t feel the need to stalk through the house at night or let out a deep rumbling growl when he felt threatened or when someone he didn’t know walked into  his house,  his territory and go near  his Stevie. Shouldn’t be able to contort his body the way he did or retract the claws now marring the once pristine surface of the hardwood flooring where he sat. 

 

Bucky's curls his lips back at the reflection in the mirror, ears pressed flat, eyes glistening with frustration and self loathing.

 

It wasn’t right. Nothing about him was right anymore and he didn't want it, never wanted any of the sick injections or months of testing that changed him into this brainsick beast now glaring back at him with eyes slitted like a demons.

 

Bucky lets out an inhuman noise that almost sounds like a sob and reaches up to rip the unwanted appendages from his head. It hurts and he feels sharp claws digging into sensitive flesh. The copper scent of blood makes its way into the air. He tugs harder. The fine point of his pinky nail pierces through the skin in multiple places like a crazed scientists syringe.

 

The memory fills him with anguish. Blood flows freely from his wounds, into dark hair, and now slowly down the right side of his face. Metal cuts through the skin right beneath his collarbone before he feels something grab onto the prosthetic wrist and quickly pull it back. 

 

Steve yells his name. Begs him to stop. Bucky thrashes against Steve’s hold letting out a litany of angry growls and snorts.

 

Steve holds the mechanical arm back as much as best he can and  pulls back Bucky’s flesh arm unaware of the hold his claws have on it. One good yank and Bucky almost roars in pain and frustration causing Steve to let go as soon as the sound bursts through mostly human lips. 

 

The room is filled with panicked shouting and deep growls that change in pitch when Bucky is pinned to the floor with a tumultuous thud.

 

Bucky struggles until Steve grabs him by his jaw and forces him to make eye contact. His eyes instantly widen at the dire look on his friends face.

 

“Buck!”

 

Bucky's heart clenches painfully.

 

“Bucky it's okay.. Please stop.”

 

“Steve..”

 

“..You're okay.”

 

The words break something in Bucky’s chest. He forces his face out of Steve’s grasp, looking off to the side in a desperate attempt to hide in any way he can. 

 

Bucky's chest visibly shakes. He takes in a deep sudden breath and lets out a deep yowl transitioning into a sob that wracks his entire frame.

 

Steve’s right hand moves to the crying mans hair in an attempt to sooth the hybrid. Bucky pushes it away and tries curling into himself. The motion goes unheeded. Steve refuses to relent, shushing his friend in a calming manner that takes them both back to a time way before any of this would have been thought possible.

 

Steve lets go of Bucky’s other right wrist to place a careful hand on a tear stained cheek completely aware of the sharp fangs beneath the skin. 

 

“No!” Bucky yells turning his head again “ _Nonono!_ ”

 

He takes in a breath and lets out another anguished cry. Fresh tears fall from his eyes mixing with the blood on his cheek.

 

No it wasn’t okay.

 

_He_ wasn’t okay.

 

Steve pushes the wet hair matted to his forehead away. Red sticks to his fingers making Bucky want to scream.

 

This wasn’t fair. None of it was any bit fucking fair.

 

Gentle words come from the man sitting above him. Soft assurances that they were both safe and okay. This does nothing to calm the battered sounds coming from the fragmented man still bleeding on the floor. Steve covers Bucky’s body with his own receiving little resistance before pulling him up and into his familiar lap. Bucky curls into his lifelong friend, hides his face in the crook of Steve’s neck forgetting about the smear of red covering almost half his face. Strong arms wrap around him. This feels like the safest way to hide.

 

“I gotcha, Bucky. I’m still here.”

 

The big cats tail curls inward and around himself. His good ear swivels back pressing itself against his head as the other trembles and flutters in pain flicking blood onto the floor and Steve’s grey shirt. 

 

“No..” Bucky sobs again “No more.. I don’t wann’em.” 

 

The arms around him tighten.

 

“Don’t _wanna_ be this, Steve. I can’t...”

 

“...Can’t what, Buck? I’ll listen.”

 

Bucky shakes his head and pulls into himself more in an attempt to be smaller. He ducks his head, putting it under Steve’s jaw and shielding himself from the rest of the world. The room is silent except for mournful noises and stuttering breaths. These eventually taper off into quiet whimpers and sniffles that then lessen into silence.

 

Steve stays still. Bucky’s shoulders tremble.  A claw tipped hand still grasps into the blood stained shirt like a lifeline.They stay like that until all bleeding stops and the blood matted in the fur of Bucky’s ear is crusty and dry.

 

Steve is the first to move. He gives Bucky a light squeeze before pulling back slightly to survey the damage inflicted to his ear. Bucky ducks his head further down hunching his shoulders in shame. He’ll be like this for the rest of the night, at least, and if not cared for correctly it’ll go on for the next few days until Steve has to climb up into the loft to retrieve him or pull Bucky into bed to be held close. It only works if they’re in Steve’s bed and Steve isn’t exactly sure why.

 

Bucky refuses to make eye contact. His long tail is still wrapped around his body. An almost undetectable rumbling vibrates though Bucky’s chest. Steve hopes it isn’t a growl.

 

“C’mon, Buck… We gotta get you cleaned up.”

 

The lack of response strengthens the tinge of worry in Steve’s chest. 

 

“Bucky..”

 

The hybrid shakes his head. 

 

Steve combs his fingers through brown locks dragging blunt nails across the half felines scalp. It takes a moment but eventually Bucky pushes back into the touch.

 

Steve takes this as a sign that Bucky's ready and gently removes the big cat from his lap. Bucky clings for a moment before letting Steve stand. 

 

It takes some gentle coaxing and reminders that Steve would never leave but eventually they make it to the bathroom. 

 

They sit in silence at first. The sound of water coming from the faucet echoes through the room before Steve holds a washcloth beneath it's steady stream.

 

They don’t bother with disinfectants. They don’t have to. Their serums do it for them.

 

Bucky winces when the warm rag first touches his mutilated ear. Steve does his best to be gentle.

 

“I’m gonna have to stitch you up, Buck.”

 

The ear twitches.

 

“Try to keep it still. You’ve got it in three different pieces now.”

 

It doesn’t take long to sew the thin flesh back together. They’d both been trained to do it and they’ve both seen worse. Much worse.

 

Afterwards Steve runs hot water through Bucky’s hair with the shower head combing his fingers through it slowly until the water runs clear against the pale porcelain of the tub. Bucky doesn’t say word or make a sound. His ears twitch as the water hits them but other than that hes perfectly still with his thick tail hanging limply over the side of the tub. There is still little to no eye contact being made but it's expected. Steve knows hes tired and shut down, hiding somewhere deep within himself behind a wall of instinct he’d never been taught to manage.

 

Learning how to live again was something they’d never signed up for but both of them had to do. Steve with his new, larger,  healthier body and status. Bucky with a deadly metal claw tipped arm and catlike parts that came with a whole new slew of emotions and wants he’d never known or experienced before. With heightened senses that surpassed Steve’s serum fueled ones and a hunters mind implanted within his own human one. Both thrown into a different century. At first apart, now finally together.

 

“Okay, Bucky.” Steve squeezes the excess moisture from the ends of the hybrids hair, “I’m all done now… So I can either leave you alone or you can stay with me. Either one will be fine. There's no wrong choice.”

 

Bucky’s head is ducked slightly, ears still pulled back. His hair covers his face like a curtain blocking him off from the world. Slowly, he reaches forward and grasps Steve’s bloodied shirt, pulling him closer. He rests his head against Steve’s broad chest. Warm and familiar. Steve feels another small tug on his shirt. Bucky presses it against his face and inhales deeply, nuzzling into the fabric. It’s warm and safe and  Steve which is all that matters.

 

Steve’s mouth quirks up at the corner in a small lopsided grin and wraps his arms around his lifelong friend. With a small happy sigh he rests his forehead against the crown of Bucky’s head careful to avoid the sore appendage. 

 

“Okay.” he murmurs happily to himself, Bucky, and the universe “It’s okay.”


	2. Desultory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First time Bucky meets Tony, things don’t go so well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back at school now so updates may come a bit slowly. I'm gonna try for once a week. I've already pre-written a few random chapters so maybe that'll help keep me on track. I'll do my best to keep everything running smoothly and to also keep going about Bucky's body dysphoria (If I am using the wrong term please feel free to correct me) in a realistic and respectful manner. And thank you all for the lovely comments on the first chapter <3333 Kitty!Bucky is hella cute :3!
> 
> Here's what I was listening to while writing this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZFOBROBax90

First time Bucky meets Tony, things don’t go so well.

 

Jarvis announces Tony's impending arrival less than a minute before the door swings open.

 

Steve and Bucky are already awake with the remnants of breakfast already scrubbed from the dishes and cutlery placed back in the drawer. Bucky had eyed Steve the entire time he handled anything sharper than a dull spoon, a habit he had yet to break. He’s still skittish and elusive. Not completely comfortable in this new environment or at all with himself. The fear of somehow hurting Steve has kept him alert and on edge at all times. Now that he is aware, his body scares him. Especially knowing what he can do with it. _Has_ done with it.

 

Steve is sitting on the couch in the middle of the living room with a file in his hand that suddenly disappears every time Bucky makes his presence known. He’s been looking through it for the better part of the morning and always has it around on days when Bucky feels the need to stay in the shadows and silently pad through the house undetected. Bucky never looks past the front cover. “CLASSIFIED” is stamped on the cover in thick red letters. Upper cased and angry. A dark warning that whatever was inside the thick manilla folder held great significance to the organization. All he knows is that it's about him and that's enough to keep him out of it.

 

Stark walks in without knocking or asking for permission, knowing full well there is a large untamed hybrid within the living quarters. He seems unfazed. His gait is confident and full of bravado. Cocky.

 

Bucky doesn’t like it.

 

A quick sniff of the air tells Bucky that Stark had previously been in his lab. The sour scent of oil and shiny metals clings to him. It makes Bucky tense slightly, backing himself back into the darker part of the loft. His hide away. Safety.

 

“Hey there, Cap.” Tony greets, “I just thought I’d invite myself in. Didn’t want to strain those old bones of yours. Might of taken you a while to get your walker out.”

 

Steve’s jaw clenches slightly as he fixes Tony with a glare. “I appreciate the kind gesture.” he states sarcastically “But I’d like the exercise.”

 

Tony continues on, unbothered by the obvious annoyance in Steve’s tone.

 

“Simba already out catching mice?”

 

“Simba?”

 

A put upon sigh “C’mon, Cap. You’ve had to have seen The Lion King. _Especially_ now. Your new roommate, Steve. Where is he?”

 

Bucky can’t help the way his ears swivel back slightly. He doesn’t need to know what Stark is talking about to get it. He does.

 

“His name,” Steve replies, tone razor edged steel laced with ice “Is Bucky.” he places the paper in his hand on the coffee table, squaring his shoulders in an act of dominance “And that's what you'll call him.” hes using his captain voice. The one that makes men submit and enemies knees shake. From the feigned look of nonchalance on Tony’s face it seems to be working.

 

“..Noted.” Stark takes a few steps past the coffee table sitting in front of the couch “.. So where is he?”

 

Steve looks upward to where Bucky is carefully hidden away in the shadows. If Bucky didn’t know any better he could have sworn Steve was looking right at him.

 

“Up in the loft. That's his place. Don’t bother him.”

 

Tony hums quietly “Oh so he uses it. Good.” a shrug before he turns back towards Steve, “I thought he’d be all over you, Capsicle.”

 

Steve glares.

 

Tony goes on, completely unaffected “Or maybe you're not done defrosting yet. I wouldn’t want to cuddle with a big chunk of ice either, so I guess I understand.”

 

This sparks a reaction from Bucky. A deep growl that rumbles through him, coming from the depths of his chest. It echoes through the room and vibrates throughout his body. With ears pulled back he stalks out of his dark hiding place and into the light.

 

Both sets of eyes land on him, one completely filled with surprise.

 

Steve stands. Bucky only sees it out of his peripheral, eyes trained on Tony.

 

“Oh.. There you are.”

 

Bucky glowered down at Tony. His tail thrashes wildly behind him, thumping against the dark wood floor in a fairly fast rhythm. Eye contact is made eliciting a strong snarl from the irate feline. Tony’s eyes widen almost comically.

 

“Hey, Cap-”

 

“ _No!”_ the hybrid thunders through clenched teeth. The rumbling undertone makes the hair on Steve’s neck stand on end. There's a loud snort and Bucky steps forward, hands tensed at his sides with claws extended “ _Don’t_.. speak to him.” he strains. The words squeeze between sharp, deadly fangs. Tony raises his hand slowly in surrender causing Bucky’s nostrils to flare.

 

“You can’t.. _No!_ ” another rumble “ _Shut up!_ ”

 

Steve makes his way over to Tony in slow calculated steps doing his best not to look threatening.

 

“Bucky.”

 

The hybrids gaze snaps over to Steve instantly.

 

Bucky’s stomach drops. His face grows hot in shame.

 

“Bucky, It’s fine..” Another step forward “He didn’t mean anything by it. It’s okay.”

 

The feline whimpers uncharacteristically “ _No!_ ” he utters dragging his fingers through his thick hair in an act of frustration _“Don’t..”_ Bucky looks towards the ground as if searching for reason then finally looks up, eyes wide “Don’t let him.. let him talk to you-” another rumble, his words beginning to sound less human “ _Can’t talk to you like that!_ ”

 

Steve moves forward more “Okay, okay. That's fine.”

 

There's another beat of silence when Bucky wipes his hands down his face. His shoulders fall as he yowls into his hands. Bucky doesn’t know what's going on, doesn’t know how to handle the screaming coming from the conflicting parts of his brain. Both sides are telling him to protect but _howhowhow-_

 

He needs to attack but _he can’t._

 

Needs to yell but _he shouldn’t._

 

Words just aren’t working and _Steve doesn't get it._

 

He just doesn’t _know._

 

Bucky’s inner turmoil is interrupted by the calming sound of Steve’s voice.

 

“Buck, do you want us to give you some room?”

 

“Steve I can lea-”

 

Bucky roars loud enough to make the glasses in the kitchen shake _“Go!”_ he yells viciously causing the inventor to take a few good steps back before knocking into Steve and getting shoved behind the larger man. Bucky hisses snapping his jaws, lips curled back in offense. As soon as the door slams shut the hybrid screams into his hands.

 

“Buck, what's wrong?”

 

He whines again, covering his quivering ears in hopes of it blocking out the static in his head _“Steve!”_ he groans stumbling backwards.

 

“Buck, I’m right here. I’m gonna come up.”

 

The feline shakes his head violently. His long tail quivers and tucks itself between his legs, the tip sitting right between his feet. He falls back. His chest is hurting and it's so hard to breathe when he can’t think straight or hear anything but the loud thrumming of his heart and how bad he’d been. He’d acted out and now he was going to be punished. Because everything was so overwhelming and screaming and-

 

“Hey, hey. Bucky. It’s me. It’s okay. I’m right here. It’s gonna be fine.”

 

_“Noo!”_

 

He pulls away from Steve’s hold, ducking close to the ground to make himself as small as possible. Bucky’s breath catches in his chest. He’s so confused and angry with himself. He wanted to hide but he wanted to touch Steve. He needed to be near Steve. But he was scared and _bad_. Didn’t want anything to hurt his Stevie.

 

His body trembles in fear.

 

Steve grabs him and forces Bucky to come closer. The feline whimpers unnaturally. He feels a hand rest on his back causing him to jerk away but Steve pulls him in closer. Bucky presses his face against his friends shoulder. His breaths are coming out so rapidly his chest hurts and can’t keep up.

 

Steve squeezes him tighter eliciting a small whine. He does his best to ignore the sharp claws digging into his skin but winces anyway.

 

“I got you, Bucky. I’m right here. You're okay.”

 

The feline shudders against him.

 

“Steve..” he hiccups “Steve, I- I- “

 

“Shh, Buck. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me right now.”

 

Bucky stills at his words and squeezes himself closer into Steve’s chest.

 

“I’m sorry.” he whispers. Because he is. And he’s scared. He’s so scared. Scared of his claws, scared of his mind, scared of himself and what he can do. He didn’t mean to go off the deep end like that. Hadn’t wanted to actually hurt anyone.. but he did. Part of him meant to pounce and maim. To protect.

 

If Steve wasn’t here he doesn’t know what he would have done.

 

Steve presses his cheek to the side of Bucky’s head “I know, Buck. Nothing happened.”

 

But it could have. It could have and that's what scares Bucky. That's what makes him hide and stay away when he wants to go near Steve. Because what if he does and things don’t go so well. He’d never hurt his Steve but he could. He could and then he’d never be able to live with himself or look Steve in the eye knowing that he did it _again_ , hurt his Stevie again now when he's supposed to be getting better.

 

But he doesn’t know if he can. Doesn’t know if he’ll ever be okay again.

 

He can’t handle being around people. Doesn’t know how to act accordingly or keep his feline side in check. Things just scream at him to act and before he knows it he does. It's angry and terrifying. _Wrongwrongwrong._

 

Bucky tenses then pushes away. Steve lets him go without much resistance.

 

“Buck-”

 

The hybrid moves back, ears still pressed firmly against his head and tail low to the ground. He’s trembling and shaking his head. Deadly claws are fully extended and sinking into the wood of the floor as he continues to scoot back farther and farther away from Steve.

 

Steve doesn’t move. He’s at a loss. Has no idea what to do or what exactly Bucky wants or what's best for him. It's a terrifying experience for them both.

  
The big felines intentions are made clear when he steps off the loft and onto one of the platforms jutting out from the wall. He hops down to the next one and out of sight. It's quiet for a moment until Bucky's bedroom door slams shut then silence reigns once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we are!  
> I tried giving a brief glimpse at Bucky's internal conflict between himself and his feline side. Thank you all for reading and please stay tuned for more.


	3. Closed Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s in bed and his door is shut all the way. He usually makes sure to leave it open, even if just a crack, as an invitation for Bucky to come in at any time. But not tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!  
> As usual here's what I was listening to while writing this:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7hccl5tOII

There is no sound to disrupt the clear silence reigning throughout the flat. There's no tap tapping of claws against wooden floors or softened footfalls once again pacing around through the dark. Not even the sound of Steve’s anxious worrying eating away at him is there.

 

It's the dead of night and the world seems to be asleep. 

 

Except for Bucky.. but he doesn’t really feel like he’s a part of any of that.

 

Steve’s in bed and his door is shut all the way. He usually makes sure to leave it open, even if just a crack, as an invitation for Bucky to come in at any time. He’d gone to bed hours ago. 

 

Bucky had sat up on the large mattress up on the loft and listened to the short lived rustling of clothes and sheets until he heard the sharp click of Steve’s light.

 

He knew why the door was closed and he was sorry. Very, very sorry. 

 

From his spot in front of the massive wall of glass Bucky sits and agonizes over the fact. He’s on the floor with his knees drawn to his chest, back against the couch worrying and aching.

 

The heavy piece of furniture had been repositioned in the large open room. Pushed farther back so there was only a few feet between it and the window. Bucky had done it and he knows it's pointless, but he’s hiding. It's stupid but he is.

 

He doesn’t want to stay up in the loft where he’s spent so much of his time since he got here and he’s tired of being holed up in his room. But he just can’t be out in the open. Not yet. And he can’t always be near Steve because.. well..

 

The thought makes him shudder.

 

It wasn’t Steve’s fault. None of this was. 

 

And Bucky knows that better than anyone else in the world. He doesn't blame Steve. Not at all. 

 

But Bucky’s not right. He’s dealing with alot of things, misunderstanding more of them and he’s  tired. So very tired..

 

And so is Steve.

 

Which is why the door is sealed shut tonight.

 

Bucky lets out a quiet sigh, ears drooping lower as he rests his chin on his knees.

 

Steve isn’t right either. He’s also dealing with things (His and Bucky’s) and has to sit by watching as Bucky does the same. He tries to help in any way he can. Sometimes Steve stays up late because he knows Bucky will and other times he squeezes Bucky so hard it's like he’s trying to put all the broken pieces back together.

 

He doesn’t understand Bucky as well as he used to but he tries. And that's what counts. It counts more than Bucky knows how to say.

 

He repays Steve by avoiding eye contact and staying out of sight as much as possible. It's shitty. Not  fair. He doesn’t mean to, but he does it.

 

And he feels absolutely terrible.

 

He doesn’t mean to push his friend so far away that he has to keep his door shut and lock himself away in hopes of hiding how devastating and upsetting this all is. 

 

Sad frustration shows on Steve’s face every day. Sometimes Bucky catches him looking out the same window he is now with this mournful look in his eye that makes Bucky’s heart break and fall into his stomach. 

 

He knows the cause of it and he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry that Steve has to deal with him and his violent bouts of panic.

 

Bucky wants to break open the door and fall to his knees, screaming out apology after apology. But instead he wraps his lengthy tail further around himself and watches as the city lights sparkle in the night sky, promising that he’ll do better.

 

He doesn’t know exactly  when  or  how .

  
But better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's POV. Short and angsty.   
> Cuddles are coming soon though. VERY soon. I promise. Seriously.


	4. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s not even sure where Bucky is half the time and it's really not okay. But it is. It really is. Has to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some sweetsweet Stevie~
> 
> Heres what I was listening to while writing this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9omSmQYVRSQ

 

It's one of those days where Bucky is best left alone and Steve has to do his best not to hover or crowd his now elusive friend. It's strange and completely against their regular relationship dynamic. Or it would be way back in the day when meal time was spent sitting across from each other at a small scuffed up table in a rinky dink little apartment that forced the two to be at each others side more times than not. 

 

But it's not. And they're not.

 

And thats okay.

 

Steve’s learning that it is a-okay.

 

Well hes  trying.

 

He still gets a little anxious when the big feline shuts himself away for over half the day and doesn’t make a sound. Steve’s not even sure where Bucky is half the time and it's really not okay. But it is. It really is.  Has  to be.

 

Steve’s shoulders slump slightly once he realizes he’s been reading the same three sentences over and over. The small lines of text began to mesh and blur together over twenty minutes ago and he can’t even remember what the article is about or what page of the newspaper he’s on so it couldn’t have been that interesting. Either that or he’s been too busy doing his best to listen for any small bit of movement coming down from the loft.

 

Not a sound.

 

Buckys up there. Been up there all day. Hasn’t said a word since last night. Hasn’t really looked in Steve’s general direction either.

 

It’s enough to make Steve’s chest tighten a little in trepidation. He’s being dramatic. A worrywart. Overreacting. He  knows he is.

 

It's not a big deal.

 

Bucky isn’t mad at him. Steve knows he’s not.  Really , he does.

 

And Bucky’s not really okay, not yet. He isn’t all the way there all the time. That’ll take time. A lot of time. And Steve will give him that.

 

But it's lonely. 

 

And he just got him back.

 

Just  got Bucky back.

 

After all this time.

 

Finally.

 

Steve sighs and lowers the crinkled newspaper in his hands. It's not worth pretending that he ever sat down to actually read the damn thing.

 

Having Bucky back should be enough. Knowing his friend was alive and near should most definitely be more than enough.

 

And it was...

 

But the scared look in those pale blue eyes and the many nights spent coaxing his friend out of tight spaces and dark corners, promising that things would be all right, that they were safe, that he would never leave him. Not ever. No matter what.

 

Thats what made it not enough.

 

Steve knows he’s greedy and selfish. So very  extremely  selfish. And guilty. So, so guilty.

 

He should have gone back. Should have gone looking. Might have found him. None of this would have happened. They’d be better.

 

So much better.

 

And it things were getting better.  Slowly.

 

And thats okay.

 

It would just take time.

 

Which they now had plenty of.

 

The pale blue eyes cautiously looking down on him from above made Steve so very glad they did.

 

Steve grins, uncontrolled and completely honest. A look of relief that covers his face and brightens the room so affectionately, it became infectious.

  
Because anything to do with Bucky and the small smile slowly making it's way across the big felines face made everything worthwhile. Especially when that smile was aimed at Steve. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST SLOWS DOWN AFTER THIS.  
>  Next chapter we'll see the boys interact more.  
> Thanks again for sticking with me<3


	5. Attempt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After she leaves Steve always sits back down on the couch to collect his thoughts or makes himself too busy to think. Most of the time he gets quiet afterwards as if he’s lost in his own nostalgia. He looks sad, even Bucky can see that though the hybrid has no idea what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE THEY COME GUYS. THEY'RE FINALLY HERE!

Steve let people visit, but only sometimes, as long as they didn’t come in pairs.

And not Tony.

They would always call ahead or text Steve to ask if they could drop by. In the beginning it was a definite no. But as things began to settle down and Bucky became less violent towards himself and to others visitors became an option. 

Steve would always inform Bucky that someone would be over and when. He would always be sure to add that Bucky could come sit with them if he wanted to but if he didn’t that was perfectly fine “There’s no wrong answer.” He always adds on “They’ll understand.”

The only response ever given was a nod or maybe a few seconds of eye contact that slowly slid to the floor. Furred ears would go erect for a breath, then droop down into a horizontal line on the hybrids head. 

Sometimes there was no response at all. Sometimes Bucky was too stuck in his own head to hear Steve. There were days when he couldn’t muster enough of himself out of the fog that came with being to opposing things to look in the right direction or to to make his face change out of that neutral glazed over expression that made Steve’s chest tighten just a bit.

The feline man always made himself scarce when company was over. He would hide away in his room with the door shut tight or stay farther back in the loft. Closer to the back wall and the large mattress Steve had brought up weeks ago when Bucky refused to come down for days at a time.

He stays away but he listens. Bucky makes sure he hears every word said or movement made when someone visits. Sometimes the wrong word is spoken or a joke goes too far and Bucky catches himself bolting up or curling his lips back with ears pressed flat against his head. Only a small handful of times does a premonitory growl burst forth too quickly to be reigned in. Most of the time the half feline can keep it to a slight rumble buried deep in his chest. When the warning sound is heard there is always a beat of silence afterwards and a few calming words telling Bucky that everything was okay and that Steve was perfectly fine. If the growling continued at any point afterwards the guest would leave. 

Things never elevate the way they did the day Tony burst through the door and onto Bucky’s bad side. Both Steve and the hybrid do their best to make sure there's no repeat performance.

For the most part, it's as if Bucky isn’t there.

Pepper stops by one day to apologize for her vexatious partner’s meddlesome actions and rude remarks. Steve welcomes her with open arms and an understanding smile that tells the businesswoman all is well. Bucky appears long enough to hear her out and give a quick nod before slinking back into the darker part of the loft.

Pepper is always welcomed after that, as long as Bucky is some semblance of himself. She likes to ask Steve how he’s doing. The brief pause before the captain answers fills the hybrid with an almost tangible guilt. The feeling of cement churning in his stomach forces him to lay down as flat as he can against the wood paneled floor of his loft or the downy softness of the comforter Steve put on his bed when the temperature fell. 

The quick moment of silence was less than a second long but Bucky knows it's his fault. The slight droop of Steve’s broad shoulders is also his doing and Bucky is well aware. Steve would be off without him. He knows.

The thought forces him into a loud fit of anxiety that causes him to growl and groan in ways that are completely feline. Bucky paces around his loft then eventually makes his way down to the open floor where he runs back and forth throughout the flat in a panic. Steve tries to calm him down every way he can but in the end he has to sit and watch until Bucky tires himself out. The big feline lands in a heap of aching limbs on the floor in front of Steve’s bedroom door. He pants and gasps for air. Steve approaches carefully then joins Bucky on the floor to brush the hybrids sweat soaked hair away from his eyes and whisper calming words. The captain's voice soothes him in ways he doesn’t understand but doesn’t dare to question. That night Steve washes the sweat from the feline’s body then carries him to his room where they sleep in the captain's bed together. Bucky is exhausted and sleeps longer than he has since he’d remembered what place Steve held in his life.

Another day, the realization hollows Bucky out so severely that he can’t find the energy to move or react to anything for hours. Eventually Steve climbs the ladder up to come find him. Steve tries to get his attention a few times, by saying Bucky’s name or mentioning that the feline really needs to eat at least something today. Lack of response drives Steve to sit on the side of the mattress and gently card his finger through Bucky’s thick hair. After over an hour of this Steve lays down next to his childhood friend. It may not be the safest move but it works. They lay face to face, touching at the knee and arm. Steve pulls him in, holding Bucky as if he were precious. Not a science experiment gone wrong. Bucky comes back to himself slowly, pushing away from Steve a few times until he’s inches away, facing the back wall instead of those concerned blue eyes. This does nothing to deter Steve’s gentle ministrations and he pulls Bucky close again, spooning the hybrid from behind. 

Silence crowds the space. Bucky trembles in the captain's strong arms, letting out a mournful groan that almost turns into a sob. He holds onto Steve’s arms like a lifeline. Bucky does his best to hold the tears in but, as usual, it doesn’t work. He crumbles in the warm grip, pushing back into the body behind him. His fist hits the mattress a few times before a muffled sob leaves him. The sound is entirely human. It takes some time but he cries himself out. Steve stays patiently, brushing tears away when necessary but nothing more. Bucky needs to get this out, whatever it is. 

They end up staying the night there. Bucky refuses to leave his room for the next two days. Their eyes don’t meet for at least a week.

People come to Steve for different reasons. Sometimes to catch him up with the outside world or ask for advice, but mostly just to see him. Bruce and Pepper are over regularly. Bruce’s calming presence and self depreciating sense of humor always leave Steve in a good mood. Pepper brings gifts for both Steve and Bucky. Things like foreign coffees and treats she wants them to try or new technology from both her and Tony. She makes sure to check in with Steve. She knows he’s dealing with alot. Bucky doesn’t think she knows how deeply this all affects the captain though. Clint comes by when he can. He smells like dog and Bucky gathers that the archer is still out completing missions, doing what he can to help Natasha. His jokes make Steve laugh but sometimes his words anger Bucky enough to force a small rumble in his chest. No one says anything negative to Steve. Bucky makes sure of that. Steve says the agent is kidding but Bucky doesn’t know him well enough to be sure.

When Sam arrives Bucky recognizes him as the man with the wings. The wings he’d torn off and cut through with his metal claws. He offers sound words of advice, to both of them, Bucky thinks, even though he makes it look as though he’s only talking to Steve. Sam and Steve get along great. Stark is making new wings for the man so Bucky doesn’t feel as awful about it as he could. He always leaves with a “Call me if you need me.”, speaking in a tone that implies that Steve really should. Natasha comes by the most. Her and Steve are close. It unnerves something in Bucky. Chips at his patience. Feeds a growing anger in the hybrids chest. The feline isn’t sure how he feels about her but she’s good for Steve, so she’s fine. Bucky remembers her. She makes a good ally. 

Natasha had developed an interest in what life was like “back in the day” before he and Bucky had been put under ice. Steve seems surprised at first but her interest is genuine so he speaks. It gives the good ex-agent an escape for just a moment. The small smile on Steve’s face tells Bucky that he’s aware and more than glad to help.

These are Bucky’s favorite conversations to listen in on. He wants to know these things but he just can’t ask. He’s not sure about how one goes about asking for things yet. He hasn’t been allowed to in such a long time.

The stories help Bucky remember. They fill gaps in the felines memory and help him learn who he was and what life was like before he became nothing more than a tool for destruction. 

The more Steve speaks the more Bucky knows. Sometimes the sergeant remembers more than Steve tells Natasha. He leaves bits and pieces out sometimes. Just little things that aren’t always so little. 

He’ll speak about his illnesses and how Bucky and Sarah Rogers always took care of him when he couldn’t do it himself. He doesn’t tell Natasha that there were too many close calls to count. Nights that Bucky spent on his knees next to the bed praying to a God he wasn’t sure he could believe in if he took Steve Rogers from his life. He never told Natasha how hungry they were during the bad times or how hard it was to breathe when the air was too dry for paper thin lungs that sometimes refused to work. 

He told her that his mother was a nurse and a kind woman with a heart of gold who loved the job that gave her the disease that took her from this world. He leaves out the last part.

He leaves out obvious details from the depression. How cold things got when they couldn’t afford heat or the gas to power the stove.

When she asks about Steve’s father he tells her his pa was a soldier. Omits that he was also an alcoholic who forgot how to put down the bottle. A man who hit his wife infront of their son and died after one too many sips of cheap booze.

Bucky knows Natasha is aware that Steve isn’t telling her the full story. She of all people understands the need for privacy and leaves it alone.

After she leaves Steve always sits back down on the couch to collect his thoughts or makes himself too busy to think. Most of the time he gets quiet afterwards as if he’s lost in his own nostalgia. He looks sad, even Bucky can see that though the hybrid has no idea what to do. 

He’ll sit and watch Steve until the man goes to bed or his mind wanders elsewhere, away from Brooklyn streets and days full of childhood laughter and scraped knees.

When Steve talks about his Ma he doesn’t utter a word for the rest of the night. Bucky can see the sad slope of his shoulders and the slowness in the man's steps.

He’s not moping. He’s just sad.

Today, he told Natasha about his mom’s funeral. He tells her how beautiful it was and how many people showed up with flowers.

Bucky knows she would have loved them and that Sarah Rogers had showed kindness to each and every person in that room including himself. 

The memory makes him miss the kind woman's smile, even though he feels as though he may not have been the one to actually receive it. That was the other him. He knows she loved Steve more than anything else in the world and that the boy knew that until the day she died then beyond that. 

When Nat leaves that night Steve sits down afterwards and lets out a deep sigh that makes Bucky’s ears fall farther as his tail stills.

It's clear that Steve misses his mom. Bucky knows how much he loved her. She was all Steve had as far as family went. She’d worked hard to make sure that was enough. 

Guilt builds in Bucky’s chest. He’s in his usual place, up on the loft, but now he’s close to the railing. The hybrid can see his friend down below and the downward tilt of the captain’s head. The man looks dejected. Broad shoulders are slumped, forced down by the weight of the world and so much more.

Bucky knows Steve is dealing with alot, aware that he’s doing it alone. 

A rock settles in the hybrid’s stomach. The feline man chews his bottom lip in trepidation.

None of this is fair, especially not to Steve who gives and gives and gives to a world that does nothing but take.

Bucky doesn’t know how to go about this but he knows he needs to at least try. He’s not sure how one is supposed to comfort another but Steve is really good at it. He tries to remember what he would have done back before the war but things are still a bit hazy so he isn’t exactly sure.

He thinks he would have gone up to Steve minutes ago and pulled the other man into a hug, holding on until Steve relaxed enough to hug him back. 

Sounds simple enough. Except it's not. Not at all. 

Bucky feels stupid for getting worked up about all of this so he squares his shoulders before getting up. The hybrid takes two steps before sinking back down to the floor in defeat, then repeating the process all over again. He goes through this three times before taking a deep breath and slowly prowling down the platforms to the living room. 

Bucky is completely silent. He starts to lose his nerve a few feet from the couch and sinks to the floor yet again, with ears down in a horizontal line. His long tail wraps itself around his body in an anxious gesture. The big feline continues on towards the couch slowly, forgetting his more human nature and walking on all fours. 

He makes it to the side of the couch before Steve sees him.

“Hey, Buck.. What's wrong?”

The question makes the hybrid pause, ears flattening back further. He looks away for a moment before climbing up onto the couch. 

Steve sits patiently. Completely perplexed but seemingly unbothered by his friends hesitance.

The hybrid keeps his gaze off to the side, ears trembling in their downward state.

Another moment of silence passes before the captain speaks again “Buck... are you okay?”

Bucky freezes. His tail puffs up slightly as he opens his mouth to speak. His throat feels dry like sandpaper and he shuts his mouth. His eyes search the room frantically for an answer, anything to help, but he finds none. 

He decides to take a different approach, raising a claw tipped hand to point at Steve with a shaking finger.

“ ..Me?”

A stilted nod.

“.. You want me?”

The feline’s face turns a deep shade of red as he raises his arms.

The surprised look on the other man's face makes Bucky flinch horribly. A tremor makes it's way through his frame. The longer he sits there the closer he is to to the couch cushions. 

The hybrid is less than two seconds away from bolting to his room and never coming back out when Steve makes a noise. Quite suddenly Bucky has his arms full of clinging super soldier. 

A quick whisper of “Oh, Buck..” into his human ear prompts him to squeeze back.

Steve’s shoulder digs into his good shoulder. It should be uncomfortable but it's not. Not at all. This feels old and familiar. He doesn’t know how to describe what's going on inside of him. There is no conflicting screams in his head, though his heart does beat quickly. Things can’t be perfect yet but this is a start.

Steve’s large frame shakes in his hold. The captain inhales deeply before bringing Bucky closer. He’s met with no resistance.

Steve’s needed this for such a long time. Now Bucky understands that. The desperation in the mans hold is almost overwhelming. There's a part of the hybrid that wants to run, to get away from these new unexplored feelings but Steve needs him right now. Bucky forces down a content rumble. He doesn’t know what to do so he does what comes naturally and stays in place until Steve feels the need to pull away. He’s not sure when that will be but until then this is okay.

As Steve smiles into his neck he’d almost go as far as to think that everything was just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom. HUGGIN TIME.
> 
> Heres a longer chapter. I haven't uploaded in a while so you all deserve this ;w; sorry bout that.  
> I'm home now from college (I'm an animation major!!!c: ) which means I finally have free time, thank goodness.  
> I've got the skeleton of another chapter typed up so hopefully things won't take so long for the next one to be put up;;
> 
> Thank you all again for sticking with me<3  
> I hope you enjoyed!


	6. Smell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deep inhale is what begins to calm the hybrids frazzled nerves.

The past few days have been quiet.

 

Not overwhelmingly so, but quiet enough that Steve has finally felt comfortable enough to listen to old baseball recordings from back in the day. It's partly done out of a desperate need for nostalgia but also because Bucky had a keen liking for baseball. Or he used to.

 

Steve still has to remind himself.

 

It's homey and familiar. The audio is scratchy but not so much that it makes the announcer's voice hard to understand. The man’s deep Brooklyn accent is a firm reminder of days far gone. The ones neither of the boys ever had a chance to witness or live through.

 

Steve doesn’t get choked up about it. It’s been a long while since he has. He’s good at keeping face. Keeping himself in line. Besides, his whole life has been one hard hit after another. The only things ever really keeping him afloat were his stubborn attitude, his ma, and Bucky who seems to have snatched another one of Steve’s large hoodies from the dirty laundry basket.

 

The piece of clothing is less form fitting than most of Steve’s wardrobe so it comfortably hangs off of Bucky’s slimmer, more agile, frame. There's a small weathered shield stamped onto the chest that resembles Steve’s much larger vibranium one. Given to him as a joke. The hood is large enough that the feline can pull it over his head comfortably without it agitating the furred ears on top of his head too much. Bucky likes to hide in it. Steve’s caught on but refuses to say a thing on the matter since the hybrid has been a tad bit more social since discovering this new trick.

 

The crowd roars in the recording. Steve catches himself getting swept up in the excitement, pulse quickening, a glimpse of warm days spent sitting around a large radio with Bucky and his family run through his head. The memory is both nostalgic and slightly tinged with an old gnawing sadness that usually comes with anything from both his and Bucky’s shared past. 

 

The captain quickly brushes the negative feelings away when Bucky quietly pads up to the office doorway. The feline stops, refusing to come in without permission. His hands are covered by the large sleeves, only the tip of a medal finger showing past the edge. 

 

Steve gathers the papers strewn across his desk quickly. Bucky’s head sinks lower as he takes a careful step back. His long tail sways slowly in a nervous gesture that Steve has recently learned to read as such.

 

Bucky is gone before Steve even thinks to look back towards the doorway.

 

He still hears the quiet sigh Steve accidentally lets out and his chest feels twice as empty as it did before.

 

\--

 

The closet is small but not so much that it makes him feel claustrophobic. Most importantly it smells like Steve. Not in the way the man's bed does, (that would be ideal) but close enough.

 

The big cat sits in the pile of blankets that had been folded into almost perfect squares (just like  Steve’s mom had taught him) right before Bucky had decided to encroach his way into the closet silently. There are quilts and soft throws that are mostly neutral in color, a few bed sheets with thread counts higher than Bucky thought possible, and a pillow from Steve’s bed Bucky has designated as his own. All of this is piled on the floor, arranged in a way that Bucky finds comfortable but most importantly safe. 

 

Steve calls it a nest and tries not to disturb the artfully placed covers and sheets when he comes in to use the space for it's intended purpose. Steve also doesn’t know that the red throw blanket Natasha had given them to “add a splash of color to the room” is also a part of the pile. He hadn’t noticed it's absence the day after he fell asleep on it, or that Bucky likes to hold it closest to his face when he needs to hide within the growing pile of sheets.

 

He knows it's stupid. Things can find him there, Steve does all the time. 

 

But it's safe and the world can’t see him.

 

\--

 

Sometimes the world gets blurry and Bucky’s pulse sky rockets. He can feel his heart trying to beat right out of his chest as he loses control of his disfigured body. The metal arm whirrs, it's the only sound Bucky hears besides the staccato drumming in his head.

 

He feels like he’s screaming, but how can you scream when there’s just not enough air?

 

It feels like the entire world is yelling at him, telling him what a freak he is, that he’s just a beast, no less than a rabid animal, a killer-

 

Then suddenly the voices stop. A familiar warmth wraps itself around Bucky’s shaking form.

 

Soft hushes and soothing whispers fill the void the screaming left. 

 

Bucky falls against Steve’s solid frame. He doesn’t even think to fight it, especially after his face falls into that comfortable, warm space between Steve’s neck and shoulder. 

 

A deep inhale begins to calm the hybrids frazzled nerves. 

 

Steve squeezes him, continually whispering comforting promises, hushed assurances of: 

 

“I’m here.” 

 

“You're okay.”

 

“I’ve got you.”

 

And this time it works.

 

Not as much as the addicting scent of comfort found on Steve’s skin..

 

But it works.

 

\--

 

The sun is setting causing the room to take a on a multitude of colors. Deep marigolds and hues of pink fill the space. Pepper’s hair takes on a lighter shade of candle light orange in the lighting and Steve is caught between trying to keep eye contact and staring at the captivating color.

 

Bucky is up in his loft, as usual, but instead of keeping towards the back wall and out of sight he’s laying on his stomach by the guard rail peeking through the bars. He’s close to the ground but still visible and incredibly vigilant with ears erect and tail flicking at the tip. Bucky catches Steve sneaking a quick glance at him every now and then. The breaks eye contact as soon as their eyes meet, ears quivering timidly. 

 

When Pepper addresses Bucky he answers silently with a stilted nod or shake of the head. His ears are pressed back completely while he tries his best not to dig his claws into the hardwood floor.

 

Bucky only responds a few times but that doesn’t hinder the hopeful smile Steve tries his best to hide.

 

The flat smells strongly of flavored coffees. The scent makes Bucky’s nose twitch as it fills the air with piquant zest. He enjoys the smell, relishes the combination of mint and dark chocolate as it mixes with the gourmet mountain blend. It’s almost heavenly, taking Bucky back to a place he doesn’t quite remember but he’s figured out that it involves Steve around Christmas time. Brown gloves a size too small for Bucky’s hands but still too large for Steve’s nimble fingers. It was snowing. Steve couldn’t stop smiling. Light and airy. A warm feeling rose in his chest at the sight of his friends reddened cheeks. 

 

The memory is ripped away right as the pieces begin to falling into place.

 

Pepper leans down to pick up a fallen spoon from the kitchen floor. She places it carefully into the sink, apologising loudly to no in particular.

 

Bucky scoots further back from the medal bars. His ears are pressed back and his metal arm makes a sound when it hits the floor. Steve’s noticed, Bucky knows. Neither say a word, Bucky doesn’t know what to say.

 

He’s confused. Questioning. He doesn’t know what all that was or what those feelings meant. It pulls at his anxiety squashing down the comfortable warmth the familiar scents gave him. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. Pepper’s presence is suddenly threatening and unwelcome. Bucky doesn’t dislike her he’s just… not okay now. Bothered.

 

Bucky retreats further back. He feels the beginnings of an oncoming headache. He lays down on the soft mattress Steve gave him, burying his head beneath the used towel he’d stolen from the laundry. He can feel his chest tightening up. Awful tension makes itself known beneath his skin.

  
Pepper and Steve, both ignorant of Bucky’s trembling, continue on with their planning and consultation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something :>
> 
> Sorry this took so long. I got out of school then went to be a camp counselor at a youth camp. Truly a life changing experience!
> 
> If you have any requests or suggestions please feel free to message me!  
> You can also find me here: http://lafernweh.tumblr.com/


	7. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big feline’s gaze stays there for a few seconds, seemingly curious, until the rain begins to beat down harder against the transparent wall.

Raindrops splash against the large picture windows creating an unending dull thudding that fills the room. The sky is a dark and looming, almost frighteningly so. It's deep coal color making New York look as if it had been built under a thick blanket. The lights of the city still shine through the darkness. The ones atop the towers and skyscrapers blink in warning shades of red and cheerful greens.

Bucky is transfixed.

He sees the blurred image of the lights through thick sheets of glass and stares so hard the image burns into his retinas showing itself in odd colors when he blinks.

The drops of rain slid down the glass in strange patterns, joining at random.

Steve turns when he hears the small ‘plink’ of Bucky’s metal finger gently hitting the glass. The sound is tiny. So small and insignificant. Steve would have ignored it if he’d still lived without the feline but Bucky was over there so everything was important.

The long pointed ears poking out from the top of Bucky’s head are upright. Facing forward and completely aware. His tail is calm, laying peacefully on the ground unmoving minus the very tip going back and forth slowly. He’s in a pair of what once were Steve’s smaller exercise shorts and a tank top he’d taken from Steve’s laundry. It hangs off of him giving the hybrid a softer look.

Steve can’t look away.

Bucky is so relaxed and pleasant, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed a few inches from the window. He stares at a singular drop of rain slowly making it's way down the glass in stilted patterns. His finger follows it until it disappears past the floor.

The big feline’s gaze stays there for a few seconds, seemingly curious, until the rain begins to beat down harder against the transparent wall and the already disrupted view blurs out completely.

Bucky’s ears twitch at the new sounds, then point toward the window again giving the sheet of glass his full attention. He quickly moves up onto his knees and places both hands against the cool glass. His tail lifts quickly, arching against his back. 

Farther back in the room Steve smiles unabashedly. He leans his cheek against his hand completely forgetting about his work.

Seeing Bucky this way is uplifting. Watching his friend flatten his palms against the window in an act of curiosity dislodges the lump of worry that seems to be constantly stuck in his throat. It's endearing the way something so simple can make Bucky’s pale blue eyes light up the way they used to. He almost tears up at the amount of hope it gives him.

It's especially nice to see Bucky sitting out in the open instead of up in his loft or behind the couch. Bucky’s not too close to Steve but he also isn’t hidden in a mound of sheets in the linen closet so Steve sees it as a victory.

“Baby steps..” The Captain reminds himself again, “Are important steps.”

A phrase Sam had drilled into him over a dozen times.

Bucky’s only response to the quiet murmur is a quick flick of the ear before his full attention is brought back to the large glass wall in front of him. The rhythm of the raindrops is both soothing and new to his heightened senses. He knows he’s seen rain before but not like this. The hybrid can’t remember ever truly experiencing it. Bucky had been caught in a downpour multiple times during missions and long before he had existed to Hydra, back when smells were dim in comparison to what they were in his new reality or they went ignored in a drug induced tunnel vision that only let him see his next target and all that stood in his way. 

The feline inhales deeply through his nose. His face is turned upward slightly with ears pinned back against his scalp and eyes closed. The long tail behind him lowers to the ground to sit motionless on the floor. Seconds later he takes another deep breath, filling his chest completely. 

Things were so different when Bucky payed attention to them, especially now. The air is moist and full, telling him everything he needs to know about the surrounding area. He can smell the polished scent of the floor beneath his knees, the purified smell of cold in the air and little bits of everyone who had come by in the past few days. Natasha owns a cat. Barton had recently been in some grass. Bruce had smelled like tea. A mixture of so many things, both old and new, but most importantly theirs. The combined scent of both himself and Steve. Their joint lives. 

Their smell.

The scent makes something deep and primal preen in his chest. His insides sigh happily, the word “Mine” echoing through his head. His thick tail curls happily at the tip. 

The moment is calming. Peaceful. The almost constant screaming and pulling in the hybrids head has quieted for the time being. He can’t say that both sides of him are at a ceasefire but he thinks that maybe this is just a small inkling of what that would feel like. Someday he’ll look back on this moment and remember the barely their sound a contented sigh behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is finally beginning to explore a bit~  
> Short again, so sorry :


	8. Steve II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every Wednesday afternoon he sits at a small wooden table in an old book store cafe just a few streets away from the tower. He’s always joined by one or more of his friends who carefully remind him from time to time that he can be gone for just a bit longer than an hour. He never is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve's POV again \o/. Also looking into whats going on with Nat just a bit.

Steve doesn’t leave their floor much but when he does it's for as short a time as he can manage. The brief moments he spends away from home are agonizing and riddled with bouts of worry or fear.

It’s become a problem.

Which is why every Wednesday afternoon he sits at a small wooden table in an old book store cafe just a few streets away from the tower. He’s always joined by one or more of his friends who carefully remind him from time to time that he can be gone for just a bit longer than an hour. He never is.

“Separation anxiety” Sam calls it, “It’s normal, man. Especially for someone who’s been through any of the things you’ve been through.”

It makes sense. Or Sam makes it feel like it does. Steve isn’t an expert on dealing with feelings but the tightening cold in both his chest and throat aren’t completely new. Back when Steve’s mom had just passed being away from Bucky for long periods made him fretful and anxious. He guesses it's the same thing, except this time Bucky’s the one who died and he’s back now doing lord knows what all by himself and-

That train of thought never takes him anywhere worth going.

Sam likes to talk him through it. Talks him down. Tries to work his way into the root of the problem and do what he can to get Steve to really open his eyes and accept that even Captain America needs a bit of time to get his head back on straight. It's not unwelcomed but taking time just for himself isn’t something Steve’s ever been good at. It was always Bucky who forced him to sit back down and take a breather. And now he’s-

Sometimes Pepper joins them as a brief reprieve from the mountain of paperwork that always has it's place on her desk. Her and Steve had spent a lot of time together lately. She’d made a point to visit the boys more after watching Steve fidget and sigh every time his eyes made their way to the seemingly empty loft. She always gets a hot cup of green tea. Bruce likes to get chamomile. The scientist doesn’t try to wheedle his way into Steve’s head or force him to talk about himself. He likes to listen. He nods as Steve speaks, always throwing in an encouraging word when he can and tells him he’s free to chat whenever Steve needs him. Clint is almost the opposite but in an endearing way. He’s a talker and always has something interesting to say even if it's a bit outlandish and completely off the subject of whatever it was he and Steve had been talking about not even a minute before. He’s funny like that. Always bringing up his dog and whatever strange situation he’s recently found himself in. Steve sees why Nat is so attached. Natasha also joins him on these short “dates” as she jokingly calls them. Sometimes Tony does to. The man looks as dead on his feet as Steve feels. He says he’s about to make a breakthrough. Steve hopes it's true. For Tony’s sanity and Peppers to.

Natasha’s the one that understands things the most. Steve is in no way surprised. The ex-agent speaks when she needs to and listens just as much. There are no awkward pauses between them or moments where Steve feels the need to clutter the air with dull chatter. Theres not much going on in his life but there's plenty happening in hers. She doesn’t tell him where she disappears to for days at a time or what happens when she's gone for what she claims is only a few short weeks. Steve doesn’t ask but he gets it. Theres not much to say when almost your entire life gets pulled apart. Many of her dark secrets have become public knowledge. Steve isn’t sure how she copes.

Maybe she doesn’t.

He doesn’t ask. It's never the time or the right place and lately neither of them are in the right mindset to have that discussion. The’re both struggling. Natasha’s just better at hiding it.

She still functions the way she always has, rolls her eyes at many of the sarcastic things Tony says and drinks from the same coffee cup Clint does most mornings. The only noticeable difference is the lengthy amount of time she spends in the gym. Watching her flip and cartwheel her way across the balance beam is something Steve could never forget. Maybe it takes her mind off of things. Maybe it helps give her a sense of control. Something Steve would almost kill to have.

He feels a slight nudge against his ankle. 

When Steve looks up from his steaming cup Nat is is staring back with her eyebrows raised. he sits up slightly in a useless attempt to give himself more time to get out of his head. Natasha gives him a knowing look before taking another sip of her iced coffee.

“How are things?”

Steve’s gaze drops back towards the wooden table.

“He took a swipe at me again this morning.. I guess opening the closet door spooked him. I had no idea he was in there.”

Her eyes go to the white line marring his cheek. 

“He didn’t mean to..” he adds, doing his best to lighten up the situation “He seemed pretty shook up afterwards. I think he cried. Hasn’t come out since... He’ll probably keep to himself for the next few days.”

There's a moment of silence where Natasha slowly moves a comforting hand across the table until it covers his. Nothing is said. Steve hooks his thumb with hers.

“Now tell me a good thing.”

Steve takes a moment but eventually answers with the smallest of smiles on his face “He likes Pepper.. Rain to. Sometimes he sits by the window and watches the clouds. I find him half asleep next to it sometimes. When he thinks I’m not looking he likes to put his hands on it. He still lets me shave his face, only if his hands on mine.”

“..Tell me more.”

Steve looks up and Natasha seems completely interested. He sees her eyes searching his face for any quick glimmer of emotion. There's no hiding from her. He begins to rub his thumb against the back of her hand.

“He steals my clothes. Only after I’ve worn them.. And my favorite pillow. I guess he takes them off after the smells worn off.” Natasha smiles at that part, “When I call his name he usually responds in some way. It’s rare for him to talk but at least he’s looking at me... The other day I was cutting carrots and I looked over at him. He gave me such a look. I swear he almost growled at me until I looked back at the food.. Same old Bucky. Been like that since we were kids. I don’t know how much he remembers but he still has some of the same old habits.. Still messes with his pillow before he lays down. Pokes his head out if I sneeze or cough..Yells at people for talking bad at me.” Natasha lets out a small huff of laughter “But he’s doing so well when people come over.. And he’s stopped trying to put his plate on the floor every time I stick it on the table. He’ll come out if Pepper’s there sometimes. He’s come out to look at Bruce a few times. Clint said something about knocking me out and that didn’t go over well. Put some new claw marks on the railing when that happened. Wouldn’t let me out of his sight for hours after that happened.” His smile grows at the memory. Natasha smirks and pulls her hand away to rest her chin on it. 

“You're gushing, Steve.”

His cheeks darken at the statement.

“It’s a good look on you.”

Steve rolls his eyes, sitting up and failing to force down the large smile on his face.

“Okay,” he takes another drink of his coffee, todays flavor is hazelnut. Last weeks was some festive mix he had never thought to associate with the season. “So what about you? How have you been doing?”

The ex-agent shrugs, eyes void of any specific emotion. Steve knows the lack of work has been getting under her skin lately. She takes another quick sip and begins to push the whipped cream into the cold coffee. It's a diversion. Something to take his mind off of the subject and let her take the conversation into a different direction. It works.

“I’m leaving a week from Tuesday.” 

“Where are you going?”

There's a brief pause before she answers “Away.”

Figures.

“Anyone going with you?”

“Clint. He doesn’t want me taking this one alone.”

Steve nods. Thank goodness.

“I think I’ll have something for you when I get back.”

He knows what that's code for: More information on Bucky. Hydra files that will make him want to fly out there himself and tear the place down. Sometimes what he sees makes him sick. Other times he checks on Bucky and if Buck’s in a good head space Steve will get close as he can. That could mean sitting in the same room or maybe just placing a careful hand on Bucky’s arm.

“.. Thank you, Nat. Really.”

She lets herself smile slightly, looking off towards a student studying her anatomy textbook at another corner table. The moment seems lighter for just a second. In that moment they’re just two friends catching up over coffee. There's no pale line on Steve’s cheek or bruises from a nightmare that turned Bucky violent. Nat’s face isn’t being shown at the upcoming UN meeting and when she says goodbye to her cat it's just for the time being, no promises of Steve taking care of the feline if she doesn’t return. But that's not how things are. As usual, Natasha reminds him of that very quickly.

“Remember what I said about pulling on that thread?”

Steve’s eyes are back down to his mostly empty coffee cup, turning it slowly with his fingers. He nods slowly, pressing his lips together to make a fine line. Natasha doesn’t answer till Steve looks back up to her and gives a quiet nod.

“Just tell me when you’ve had enough.”

The subtle droop in Steve’s shoulders makes her think he has. 

“I will, Nat… Thanks.”

It's not long after that when Steve looks down at the screen of his phone. Natasha gets the sign and they both stand to leave. They hug outside the entrance, off to the side so not to get hit by the early dinner sidewalk traffic. The embrace is extended for a little bit longer than most would think comfortable but they both know they need it. Though neither would openly admit to it.

As they pull away Natasha grabs Steve by the chin and forces his face towards hers. The captain's eyes widen at the sudden jerk. The thumb pressing down on his bottom lip would bruise any other man.

“You take care of yourself.” she demands, an unspoken threat behind her words, “And I don’t mean Just Bucky, I mean you to, Steve. Do you hear me?” 

Steve nods as best he can in the tight grip. Natasha searches his eyes not letting go until well after she’s done. With a quick kiss on the cheek she turns towards the busy street and walks further into the city to meet Clint and Lucky in the park.

Steve watches until she turns the corner, thinking that maybe he’s headed towards the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well what did you guys think??  
> More Nat? Less Bucky??? I surprised myself.  
> I struggled with this chapter. For a while I was thinking about trashing it and starting over again. I really enjoyed focusing on Steve and Nat's relationship for a bit. I'd like to see more on what shes going through post WS. I think it would be a bit of a struggle for her to have so much of herself out in the public eye.   
> I hope this gave a broader look as to whats going on in this AU.
> 
> http://8tracks.com/esterie/breathe-in this awesome playlist helped me work through a couple blocks while writing this. If you like something ambient or uplifting you should definitely give it a listen. It even has Hopipolla~
> 
> As always, thank you all for reading! Please tell me what you think and I hope to see you all next time!


	9. Bated Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His ear twitched as he finally felt himself falling into the hazy fog of sleep with his and Steve’s combined scent filling his nose. It's comforting and wonderful. One of his favorite things in the world. In that moment everything feels so cozy and good.
> 
> Yet something still doesn’t feel right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to feel about this one :\  
> It started out completely different then I realized that what I intended to happen didn't really fit yet. Maybe later.

It's a dream that pulls Bucky out of a hazy sleep. 

 

Steve was in it and they were in his and his ma’s old apartment. Bucky isn’t sure if what he saw was completely correct but he knows the older image of Steve was. With a smaller build and narrow shoulders Steve had looked up to him instead of down. His fringe was longer, sometimes in his eyes. In need of a trim. It’s different from the more modern cut Steve has now. It was endearing the way Steve blew it off his forehead or brushed it to the side. In the dream, Bucky does his best to move it before Steve could. It's important. Cherished. Bucky feels what he thinks is happiness until the sound of Mrs. Rogers’ coughing interrupts whatever it was that Steve was saying. Bucky doesn’t know why it fills him with a sense of dread or why Steve’s face falls. In the dream, Bucky had no fear or hesitance when it came to touching Steve. He’d thrown his arms around the shorter man and pulled him close until Steve’s forehead had touched his shoulder. A small sniffle could be hear but Bucky knew to ignore it for the time being.

 

When they had gotten back into Steve’s small room he’d started wheezing. The wheezing quickly turned into coughing which quickly turned into choking. Gasping and shaking Steve had grabbed onto Bucky’s shirt and pulled.

 

The quick tug woke Bucky with a start

 

He’s warm and disoriented, eyes burning from exhaustion. It takes a few moments for pale blue to focus but eventually Bucky lifts his head to look around. He’s not in the old apartment that probably doesn’t even exist anymore. Probably hasn’t for a long time.

 

Shaking the remaining discomfort from the dream he drops his head unceremoniously back onto the mess of clothing and sheets he’d chosen as his bedding the night before. It was just a dream. Steve tells him they aren’t real. Bucky knows that. Sam tells Steve that deep breaths and an item of comfort help people settle down after an especially bad one.

 

With that thought in mind, Bucky pulls one of Steve’s used tanktops to his face. The hybrid lovingly nuzzles it, taking deep breaths and inhaling the familiar scent of his best friend. He lets out a content sigh that turns into a soft moan. The sound is less human than animal, turning into a trill near the end. If Bucky were more aware of himself he’d hide his head in shame.

 

His ear twitched as he finally felt himself falling into the hazy fog of sleep with his and Steve’s combined scent filling his nose. It's comforting and wonderful. One of his favorite things in the world. In that moment everything feels so cozy and good.

 

Yet something still doesn’t feel right. 

 

There's almost no noise in the house. It's early morning. The world is still asleep. But something is missing.

 

Bucky’s ears twitch and rotate searching for whatever is amiss. His thoughts go directly to Steve. Usually Bucky can hear his breathing throughout the house. Sometimes the man is a mouth breather when he sleeps, an effect of years riddled with frequent colds and stuffy noses.

 

Steve doesn’t sound like he should. He’s so much quieter. Strained almost. 

 

The hybrid sits up and his ears droop at the realization. Steve never sounds like this. The cozyness in Bucky’s chest vanishes, a cold worry taking it's place. He fiddles with a towel and waits for Steve’s breathing to regulate.

 

At least a minute goes by with no sign of change. The ending of Bucky’s dream comes back to him and he bursts out of the linen closet, hopefully much quicker than necessary. 

 

The few steps to Steve’s room are full of trembling ears and the not so quiet thudding of Bucky’s heart. He’s worried and cold now. Only in a short pair of boxers and a shivering tail. 

 

It's not a big deal. 

 

Really it's not.

 

And Bucky knows that.

 

He does.

 

But he also knows over ten different ways to end Steve’s life both silently and efficiently, all while he sleeps. The thought fills Bucky’s heart with dread and he steps up the pace. 

 

He’s almost running when he gets to Steve’s door, not bothering to knock or listen before he pushes the door open and rushes in. 

 

Steve is in his bed, where he should be, covers pulled almost up to his broad shoulders. One of the extra pillows on the bed is covering his face. The site makes Bucky’s blood run cold. He can’t see any movement under the large duvet, no rise and fall or sign of life.

 

The felines heart beats wildly in his chest. He can’t hear much beyond the sound of blood rushing through his ears and his pounding pulse. He tries to say Steve’s name but nothing comes out and he can’t remember the last time they spoke which makes him feel even worse. 

 

He said he’d do better and he’s not. Bucky fucking promised and now Steve’s-

 

Tears fill the hybrids eyes. He hates himself for it. 

 

Part of him wants to go back to the linen closet and hide in the mess of bedsheets and Steve’s clothing where it smells right and he’s  safe.

 

He stands at the end of the bed quickly sinking farther and farther into a sudden bout of panic. He shivers and shakes, listening to his angry pulse and the voices in his head screaming at him, telling him he’s failed, that his mission is complete, that he needs to protect, to be near,  help him!

 

But Steve’s not-

 

He could be-

 

What if he’s-

 

Someone could have-

 

Bucky’s heart jolts and he pounces.

 

Steve comes to instantly, trying to jump up, hands grabbing onto strong arms that fight his grip. A  pleading repetition of  “Steve! Steve! Steve!”,  tells the captain that no one is attacking him. Well, not purposely. 

 

Bucky’s sitting ontop of him straddling his stomach and pawing at his face, pushing the covers away in a panic. His eyes are full of terror, tears falling from them onto Steve’s neck and face. He’s panicking. Maybe something happened. What if there's something dangerous in the flat? Did he have a bad dream?

 

“Bucky! Bucky, hey! Buck!” Steve fights to take hold of the medal hand butchering his comforter and the claws currently breaking skin near his jaw. Bucky struggles and continues to call out Steve’s name. He breaks his wrist out of Steve’s grip again in a full blown panic. 

 

Steve’s moving and breathing but what if-

 

The hybrids eyes are wide, ears pressed firmly back against his head. He sobs loudly and grabs at Steve anywhere he can reach. He  needs to know Steve is okay. He has to feel it to believe it.

 

Steve shushes him soothingly. He quit trying to stop Bucky minutes ago. His hands are on the felines hips rubbing up and down gently. Bucky doesn’t seem to notice until much later when both of his hands rest on Steve’s broad chest. One rests right above his heart. He whimpers when Steve takes a deep breathe, tears still flowing freely down his reddened cheeks.

 

Steve shushes him again, this time placing his hands over Bucky’s. Bucky lets out another wet sob as Steve touches his face to wipe the tears away. Bucky’s less hysterical now but Steve can still feel him shaking. The hybrid repeats his name again, whimpering loudly when Steve moves his hands away to pull Bucky closer. 

 

“It’s okay, Bucky. We’re okay. I’m right here.” Steve soothes.

 

The hybrid presses himself to Steve’s chest, rubbing his cheek against the fabric of the faded old army shirt. It feels right and helps calm his frazzled nerves to know that his scent will be on Steve and his clothing for at least the day. It also helps to hear the sound of Steve’s strongly beating heart. He’s still crying and sniffling loudly into his friend's chest but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. 

 

But he should. Bucky wishes he did. It would make him feel like less of a leech, someone who took and took  and still took from someone who only gave. It makes Bucky’s heart hurt and anger boil beneath his skin because Steve  lets  him.

 

The revelation makes Bucky’s hold on the faded old army shirt tighten. He knows he’s exactly where he needs to be, sitting on top of his Stevie, the only man in the world with an actual heart of gold. Someone who is willing to reach out towards a snarling pack of vicious wolves, with unprotected hands, in order to give them something as simple as a scrap of meat. 

He needs protection. Constant and vigilant protection. 

 

Bucky is pulled out of his thoughts when Steve begins moving him to the side. Needless fear spikes in Bucky’s chest and he loudly objects.

 

“Hey, hey. Shh, Buck. I’m just getting the blankets.” he looks down near the end of the bed “ Or uh.. What's left of them.”

 

A slight blush appears on Bucky’s cheeks but it's quickly forgotten as Steve pulls him close again.The hybrid buries his face between Steve’s neck and shoulder, taking a deep breath and letting it out blissfully. To him this is what safety is. His utmost comfort.

 

Steve asks if he’s okay and tells Bucky that they’ll talk about this later, which is fine.

 

Bucky doesn’t care because he’s with his favorite person.

  
He falls back asleep in his Stevie’s arms, feeling cozier and more at peace than he ever did in the linen closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More cuddles guys \o/!!!!!!!  
> Things will start to get more serious soon!
> 
> I'm back to school in a couple days and I'm super stressed about it. I'm graduating with an associates in animation then I'm off to transfer to another school to finish my BA. I'm not sure what I'm gonna do though orz
> 
> Wish me luck everyone!  
> If you're still in school I hope this year goes well for you <3  
> We all deserve a good one!


	10. Rupture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Natasha who makes the realization Bucky’s been dreading for months now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM BACK
> 
> GET READY GUYS. ITS GONNA BE A BUMPY RIDE.

It’s Natasha who makes the realization Bucky’s been dreading for months now.

She's on the couch drinking tea when she looks up and her eyes connect with Bucky’s. He’s been pacing again, just can’t seem to stop, and Steve seems (as usual) a bit worried. The feline’s ears lay flat against his head as Natasha raises an inquisitive brow. After listening in on dozens of conversations between his Stevie and the spy, and vigilantly watching every move Nat had ever made while on his and the captains shared floor, Bucky knew far too well that this wouldn't end well.

“Steve?” Natasha says, lowering the cup from her lips.

Bucky’s heart begins to sink.

“Have you ever had a cat before?”

The look Steve gives her is full of surprise and confusion. He gapes for a moment, unable to fathom how Nat could make a jab at Bucky’s condition or why she would say such a thing in his or the hybrids presence. He shakes his head slowly, eyes full of hurt.

“Nat.. How could-”

“Steve, that's not what I-”

The spy is suddenly interrupted by a deep growl coming up from the loft.

Bucky is at the railing breathing heavily through razor sharp fangs. His eyes are murderous, slitted and feral, tail bristled and waving behind him. The wooden snaps in his grip, claws fully extended, ready to attack.

“No!” Bucky growls “No!” he yells even louder

He lets out an ear shattering roar and lunges towards the terrified spy. Steve Jumps to intercept Bucky’s pounce. They slam into the hardwood flooring and the door shuts signaling Natashas hasty escape.

Bucky struggles in the captains hold, snarling and screaming. The pitch and rumble in Bucky’s voice constantly changes as he fights to be free of Steve’s grasp. He dips his flaws deep into the floor using them as leverage to slip out of Steve's tight grip. 

The hybrid moves too quickly for Steve to grab hold of him again, though he briefly feels the captain's fingertips barely touch the tip of his tail.

Bucky slams against the door and drags his claws down across the frame and wood substitute, ruining both. The frame falls off the wall, the non metal part of the door splinters. He roars again in anguish, This time it's not as loud and tapers off into a deep sob. The sound is heart breaking. Steve doesn’t know what to do.

Bucky’s fists pound against the door in rapid succession. Angry and hate filled. He’s not sure who exactly he's mad at. Natasha or himself. He didn’t want Steve to see him like that. He’s not some house cat meant for fetching mice and being endlessly coddled. He wasn’t just an animal, he was a person to. A man who once had hopes and dreams and ate normal food just like any other. He can think and speak for himself, even though he wasn’t exactly sure how to anymore. But, god, he’d learn again. Because he wasn’t just a cat, not only the Feral Soldier, he was Bucky. Steve’s Bucky.. Or he was trying to be.

Steve approaches in an attempt to calm his friend but receives a harsh shove for his effort. The push knocks him back a few feet. Steve lands on his back, sliding across the shiny wooden flooring.

It's not right, he can’t accept it, couldn’t believe it. That's not him.

Not just some cat. 

Some fucking animal.

A feral beast.

Bucky’s so much more than that.

He swears he is.

Even though he growls and hisses at things in a way he can’t always control. Even though his days are spent locked up by choice so he doesn’t hurt other people, so the world doesn’t see him. So he can be both safe from himself and the rejection he’s sure would come the moment he stepped outside of these safe walls.

He can’t control himself.

He wants to and he tries but he fails. Every day he fails and wonders why this is all happening. How a man born, just like any person, except he had working ears and a tail that moved and swayed. How someone could ever exist through what he’s been through or ever put someone as loyal and loving as Steve through this.

Bucky hates himself for it.

He screams at Steve for attempting to approach him again.

Bucky stands and runs towards the couch desperate to take all of this out on something, anything, as long as it doesn’t have a pulse. The feline slices the upholstery with his claws and throws it towards the window. The glass bows slightly but doesn’t break. The couch is not so lucky.

He hears Steve calling his name but he’s too angry and feels too much anguish and hate towards himself to face the only person that could ever stand by a creature such as himself.

A beast.

A monster with no controle, who’s killed on command more times than he hopes to ever remember. It's all he’s good for anymore. He’d never walked away from a mission without blood staining his hands and claws. He’s ripped men apart it by bit. Snapped their spines with his sharp pointed teeth.

But that's the problem. The thing he’d been running from and trying to hide from Steve since he was coherent enough to understand.

Bucky wasn’t human anymore. Not like he was before.

His muscles were too strong, vocal chords too different. Brain mangled and warped too far to be fixed. 

He wasn’t James Buchanan Barnes anymore. Not Steve’s Bucky. 

Too wild and destructive to be Steve’s

The realization pulls a gut wrenching noise from the feral hybrid.

A chair flies into the wall, splintering upon impact, wood panels are ripped up and drywall crumbles in his bleeding hands. 

Steve is unable to catch him or stop the hybrid from destroying most of their living space.

The last thing Bucky remembers is the site of his best friends face, bleeding and full of terror, before everything goes blurry then dark.

\--

He wakes up hours later with a pillow under his head and a blanket draped across his sore body.

Things are a bit hazy at first, his hands ache, and he’s exhausted.

Steve is sitting scarcely a foot away. His eyes are red rimmed and his clothes are all askew. A large bandage covers a third of his jawline. Butterfly tape holds the skin of his cheek together in multiple places. 

Bucky looks around quickly, panic clear in his features. Steve moves quickly, drawing close and shushing him. Bucky makes a frightened sound that breaks Steve’s heart even more.

“Please, Buck.” he begs, “Please..”

The room is destroyed and Steve…

Steve is crying.

A lone tear slips down his cheek into one of the deep lacerations. 

Bucky’s eyes fill with tears and he shakes his head, ears pressed flat against his head. He surveys the damage around him. The walls are full of holes and scratches, the floors are ruined, furniture splintered to pieces in every corner and Steve…

Steve..

There's blood on his hands.

Bucky almost heaves.

There's a first aid kit a few feet away and Bucky lunges for it. He rips it open sending its contents in every direction. The hybrid catches a package of gauze before it hits the marred floor and places it on Steve’s lacerated cheek pressing it against the healing wounds.

His breath speeds up befor he speaks,“I’m sorry!” He sobs, hands trembling against the captain's face. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean- I didn’t..” 

Steve shushes the hybrid, placing his hand over Bucky’s. His chest shakes as tears mixed with blood hit the floor. “Buck..” a breath, “Buck.. please..” The plea goes unfinished. Bucky’s lower lip trembles like a child's. A piece of drywall falls to the floor.

It breaks into pieces when it hits the floor.

Bucky’s heart does to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO PUT UP ANOTHER CHAPTER.
> 
> This school year wrecked me and I had to let go of all my hobbies and fun things. It wasn't awful, just hard. But now here I am with a degree in animation!!!! It was super hard but soso worth it! Now I'm going to hibernate for a week.
> 
> Sorry for the lack of length in this chapter but things will be picking up quickly. The next update will come soon.


End file.
